


White Blinded

by WeirdoWitchOfTheWest



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Pinkberry, Rich is an asshole, Soulmate AU, boyf riends - Freeform, car crash, implications of abuse, injuries, mentions of abuse, michael has two lesbian moms and no one can convince me otherwise, michael's moms - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-29 09:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15726399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdoWitchOfTheWest/pseuds/WeirdoWitchOfTheWest
Summary: From the moment Midori Mell had given birth to her son, she had loved him unconditionally-  but she’d known that his life ahead of him would be a difficult one.In a world in which your soulmate’s first touch was displayed across your skin from birth, Michael Mell was no exception- but it was the placement of his that mattered. He had- quite literally- been marked from birth.Splayed across Michael’s left cheek was the span of of a handprint. His mother was no idiot- she knew what it meant. But that didn't mean she liked to think about it.Really, what kind of mother liked to think about her little boy being slapped by his soulmate?





	1. Chapter 1

From the moment Midori Mell had given birth to her son, she had loved him unconditionally- but she’d known that his life ahead of him would be a difficult one. In a world in which your soulmate’s first touch was displayed across your skin from birth, Michael Mell was no exception- but it was the placement of his that mattered. He had- quite literally- been marked from birth.

Splayed across Michael’s left cheek was the span of of a handprint. His mother was no idiot- she knew what it meant. But that didn't mean she liked to think about it.

Really, what kind of mother liked to think about her little boy being slapped by his soulmate?

\-----------------

Since Michael was a young boy, he had received strange looks for his soulmark. His moms had never mentioned it to him, so he never really thought about it. The first time he remembered thinking that his soulmark was anything other than normal was at the grocery store, near the end of kindergarten.

Amongst the aisles of the store, it was hard for a six year old to keep track of his mother. Michael had been following his mother, really, he had! It wasn't his fault that she turned into an aisle too quickly, and Michael hadn’t seen where she'd gone.

Turning around, Michael searched for his mother in every direction, frowning quizzically. She couldn't have gone far, Michael knew- but what Michael didn't know was which way his mother had gone, and his short legs weren't exactly the best for moving quickly. And his mother had warned him against running and yelling in grocery stores.

A gentle touch on his shoulder spun him around.

“Are you lost, dear? Where-” the graying old woman cut herself off, and an awed hand went up to lightly cover her mouth.

“Yes, I am lost,” Michael replied, unabashed. But the woman seemed to have stopped paying attention. She reached out with a stable, yet wrinkly hand, and lightly brushed Michael’s cheek. Michael didn't know what to say.

“I'll be praying for you, my dear.” The woman closed her eyes and traced a cross over her chest. “God bless you, child.” The woman then hastily retreated from the aisle.

Michael's moms weren't religious- in fact, Michael had never set foot in a church a day in his life. But he wasn't stupid, and he knew what that meant. He was especially confused as to why the woman had said that to him, and why she'd touched his soulmark.

He didn't see what was so bad about his soulmate touching his face. It simply didn't make sense.

As Michael got older, those reactions didn't stop. Some people were more subtle about it than others, but he always caught the shift in their attitude towards him after they saw it. They seemed nicer- no, not nicer. Sympathetic, maybe, like they felt bad. He didn't know how to feel about it.

Some wanted to touch it, and he didn't like that. It stung, just the tiniest bit, like when you touch a scrape after falling in the pavement, only a bit duller.

It didn't hurt when his mommy and Mama touched it, or when his uncle Sam and Aunt Mary did. Then it just tingled, like a limb after falling asleep.

Children were much less adept at toning down their reactions, gasping and pointing at the black splotch on his cheek. Michael elected to ignore them.

In Michael’s second grade class, he met a girl named Brooke. Brooke was quiet, and she spent a lot of time in the library, reading. She liked fruity tea, and her favorite drink was orange juice.

The best part about Brooke, though, was that she never once mentioned Michael’s Mark. Michael thought that was because of Brooke’s own mark- she typically got similar reactions, but less often, as hers was on her hand and not her face.

After meeting during a partner project in their class, Michael and Brooke grew very close, bordering inseparable. Within weeks, they were having their first sleepover at Michael's house. They watched High School Musical in his living room and ate popcorn.

People continued asking about Michael's Mark, as well as Brooke’s. Despite this, Michael kept liking 80s films and video games, and Brooke kept liking bubble tea and books. It was a balance that they both clung to.

They never talked about their marks until the summer before sixth grade, as Michael was sleeping over at Brooke’s house. They lay on her soft, light pink carpet with the lights off, laying on a blanket with their heads resting in their hands as they faced each other.

“Everyone always tells me about how I'll punch my soulmate, because of my Mark.”

Michael was silent for a few seconds, not having expected this change in topic.

“Me too,” he whispered, trying not to awaken Brooke's parents. “Well- not that I'll punch them, but that… that they'll hit me.”

Brooke didn't respond immediately, and Michael could tell that she was picking at her carpet from the soft tearing sounds of the strands being ripped out of their roots.

Finally, Brooke responded, “Sometimes I'm afraid that they're right. But…” she sighed, and multiple strands of carpet were torn off. “I really don't want that, Michael. No matter who they are, they don't deserve that. I don't even know how to punch somebody.” She let out a laugh, but it sounded anxious and distraught.

“I don't think you'll punch them, Brookey,” Michael offered. “I really don't. I don't think you have that in you.” As Brooke began to protest, Michael sat up and hurriedly waved his hands. “No, no, not like that! You’re perfectly capable of it, I think… but I don't think you’d do it if they didn't deserve it Brookey. You're smart.”

“I am not,” Brooke protested.

“Say that to your grades,” Brooke chuckled softly.

“For what it's worth, I don't think your soulmate will hit you.” Michael frowned. “Anybody worthy of being your soulmate wouldn't dare hit you, ever. And if they do… We'll, I'll figure out how to punch somebody.”

Michael launched forward, and Brooke let out a startled yelp as Michael's arms locked around her and she hugged him back. Brooke let out a small laugh, and Michael giggled in return, just happy to be in the company of a good friend.

\-----------------

It was in his freshman year of highschool that Michael began to notice people. Upper year Dustin Kropp’s jawline, Jonathan Reed’s hair, Jake Dillinger’s eyes.

It wasn't long before he realized that he wasn't noticing the girls in the same way. They were pretty, they were! Jenna Rolan’s skirts were adorable, Madeline’s high waisted jeans and killer eyeliner was amazingly breathtaking. Even Brooke and her sweaters were utterly gorgeous…. But they just didn't make him feel the same.

“I don't like girls,” he told Brooke in the early morning on their way to school, before the sun had risen.

“Sometimes I don't either,” Brooke stated simply. “They can be real bitches.”

“No, no…” Michael hesitated, trying to find the words. “I mean, like, I don't think they're pretty- no, wait, they are! So many of them are, but…”  
Even being confused as she was, Brooke waited patiently. She didn't push.

“Have you ever seen Evan Laney’s eyes?”

“I've… never given it much thought, if I'm honest.” Brooke said, confused.

“Well, they're gorgeous. This really pretty shade of brown, with darker shades streaked in. They're like maple syrup in the sun and it's fucking amazing.” Michael sighed. “I think what I'm saying is that I like boys like I should like girls.”

Brooke stopped, then, halting both their steps. “Michael… I think you might be gay.” She hurried on quickly, “Or demisexual, or bi, or maybe even asexual with a side of romanticism, don't get me wrong. But that doesn't matter right now.”

She took hold of one of Michael's hands, only to find that his hands were shaking, and slightly clammy. She couldn't feel Michael's heart racing, but Michael thought for sure that she could hear it. “Michael… it's okay.” She brought his hand up to her lips, and pressed a soft kiss to it, before clasping it between her slightly smaller hands. “You're okay. It isn't a problem with me, so you don't have to worry, okay?”

“You don't… you don't think I'm… like, you don't think I'm weird?” Michael intoned, his voice trembling with nerves.

“Of course not! You're my best friend, Michael, I could never. I promise.” at her words, Michael's lips pressed together, and a few tears fell from each eye as he couldn't keep them from falling. He let out a shaky laugh as he moved to wipe them away, but Brooke beat him to it, and brushed them away with her thumbs.

“Thank you, I love you so much, I don't deserve your fri-” Michael's grateful rambling was cut off by an impossibly tight hug from Brooke, and he didn't hesitate to cling back, breathing deeply into her shoulder as he shut his eyes. As his breath evened out, Brooke leaned back, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek.

Michael thanked anyone listening for Brooke Lohst.

\-----------------

Later that same year, in Michael's only class that he shared with Brooke (English), they were on their way back from the library.

They had been discussing the book that Brooke was currently reading. Another class was filtering through them in the opposite direction, and Michael felt slightly uncomfortable with everyone pushing past him in the crowd.

However, all thoughts of himself flew out the window when Brooke suddenly went rigid, standing stock still even as students rushed past her in a hurry.

“Brooke?” Michael asked. Having gotten no response he tried again, “Brooke!” Again, to no avail.

When all the students filtered away, as Michael still was attempting to get Brooke’s attention when he noticed one other person in the hallway. It was Chloe Valentine, already as on top of the food chain as you could possibly be in freshman year.

They had turned to face each other, only a couple feet apart, and were staring at each other with the picture of bliss on their faces. In two solid steps, they collapsed into eachothers arms. It was slightly awkward, seeing as Brooke only came up to Chloe’s nose- but they made it look natural. It looked as if they were meant to fit together.

Sensing that this was a private moment, Michael backed away down the hallways with a quick text to Brooke telling her that he'd be in the courtyard.

After sitting on the pavement scrolling through pinterest for about half an hour, Michael looked up at the sound of shoes on the pavement, to see both Chloe and Brooke, side by side, Brooke leaning into Chloe and Chloe’s arm across her shoulders, as if they couldn't get enough of each other.

“Sorry for leaving you in the hallway,” Brooke said quietly. “I just-”

“It's her, isn't it?” Michael interrupted. Brooke didn't respond, a look of mild surprise on her face. “She's your soulmate?”

Brooke hesitated, looking guilty. “Yeah… Michael, I-”

“That's amazing! Brooke, I'm so happy for you! This is such good news!” Michael exclaimed, excitement accentuating all of his features as beamed at Brooke. Brooke returned the smile just as ecstatically. “Can I hug you?” Michael asked hesitantly.

“Uh... No, I don't think so. It seems like it would hurt.” She said, less excited. “But I don't think it would hurt if it was just, like, or hands or something.”

Not one to pass up an opportunity, Michael gently held Brooke's hand and laced their fingers together, giving it a gentle squeeze as they beamed at each other.

Turning to face Chloe, he extended his hand. “Hello. I'm Michael! It's nice to meet you.” He said quietly. At Chloe’s disdainful look at his hand, he quickly retracted it, hastily shoving it back in his pocket.

“Chloe. Look, Mitchell, as nice as this has been, I'd much rather be spending time with my soulmate. So… I think we'll be going,” Chloe said in response. That being said, she grasped Brooke’s hand. Brooke shot Michael an apologetic glance as she hastily untangled their fingers.

“I'll meet you at your house after school?” she shouted as they walked away. Michael shot her a thumbs up and a bright smile.

\-----------------

Life for Michael Mell changed after Brooke Lohst found her soulmate.

It wasn't monumental, no, but it was still different.

Michael had expected Brooke to spend less time with him- hell, he wanted her to spend less time with him. Not for any malicious reason, but because Brooke deserves to spend time with her soulmate.

What Michael had not anticipated, however, was how… popular Brooke got.

Brooke started buying more expensive clothes, nicer makeup. She did her hair in the mornings, rather than leaving it its natural wavy state.

She gained friends- more friends than Michael had ever had in his life. Jenna Roland, Christine Canigula, Jake Dillinger, Dustin Kropp. She was even friends with Madeline.

He wasn't angry, no, not at all. He was so happy for Brooke. She deserved it more than anyone, and it made sense that she couldn't find the time to hang out with him as much as she used to.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt when he spent entire weeks without talking to her.

\-----------------

Michael had noticed Rich Goranski, of course he had. They had three classes together.

He had even planned to talk to him, at one point. He seemed like the kind of person Michael could be friends with, if the books on his desk and the graphic t-shirts he wore were anything to go by. As much as he tried, it didn't happen. (He couldn't work up the courage.)

In the middle of sophomore year, Michael was shocked by a biting remark from Rich about his clothes. It was an Apocalypse of the Damned t-shirt (it was too hot to wear his red hoodie, which he'd gotten from Brooke a couple years before), which confused him, since he'd seen Rich wearing an AotD t-shirt just weeks before.

As the year continued, Rich continued to mess with him- normally just jaunts and jibes, which didn't bother Michael much. He'd dealt with them all his life. But the little jabs Rich sent at him got worse, talking about Brooke, about his two moms (Michael had never pinned rich for a homophobe). Those were the ones that hurt.

However, no matter how far the verbal abuse went, Rich had never touched him. Never so much as fisted a hand in his shirt to hold him still; his words did that well enough.

Michael was grateful for it. He could handle verbal pain- all that did was make him hate himself a little bit. He wasn't sure he could take being hit, though.

It was lunchtime. Brooke had a different lunch period, so he sat by himself at a table near the wall.

He had gotten up to go to bathroom when Rich Fucking Goranski cornered him there,standing in front of his only exit.

“Fuck off, Rich,” he said resignedly. No use hiding his thoughts when Rich would berate him anyway.

“Wow. Rude.” Rich implored. “Where's little Lohst?”

“She doesn't have this lunch period, dumbass. You know that.” Michael glared through his eyelashes. “Besides, why do you want to know?” Rich pushed off the wall he'd been leaning on, crossing his arms.

“No reason- just wondering why you were sitting alone.” A cruel look passed his face. “Wait… nevermind. You always sit alone- fuckin’ loser.” Sardonic laughter rebounded off the tile. Michael just rolled his eyes- he'd heard it all before.

“It's crazy to think she's friends with you. Why drag herself down, am I right?” Yes, Michael thought. I know I don't deserve her- move on already. “It's crazy to think you have a soulmate!” Michael winced. This was unexplored territory, and he just wanted out of the bathroom. He considered just shouldering Rich out of the way and leaving, but he didnt think that would work. As short as he was, Rich was about ten times as strong as Michael.

“What, and its normal to think you have one?” Michael bit back. Rich ignored him, and a thoughtful look passed his features- at least it would have been thoughtful, had the expression been on anyone else. On Rich it just looked like he was squinting.

“I guess it's not that shocking. Your relationship will probably fail. You have no friends besides Brooke, who probably only hangs out with you out of pity-” Michael winced. “-and I doubt you've ever had a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, fag.” A mischievous glint appeared in Rich’s eyes, and Michael felt a shot of fear glance through his stomach as Rich slowly sauntered towards him. “Going by your Mark, I'd even say it'll do more than fail. Are you really that weak, Mell? You're going to let your soulmate hit you?” Rich scoffed. “No surprise- of course you're that weak.” Rich was only about a step away from Michael now, and Michael wished he wasn't so close to the wall. Disgust curled at Michael’s lips, and he resisted the urge to spit in his face.

“You utter asshole.” Michael spat.

“Now, now, watch your to-”

“No!” Michael leaned up from the wall, taking a small step towards him. Rich did not step back. “Why do you hate me so much? What did I do to you? Is it because I'm okay with not being popular?” The unlike you went unspoken, but was heard by both individuals. “You got what you wanted. You're popular now, with a popular group of friends and popular clothes and a popular life. Leave me out of it!”

“Mell, you better shut your damn mouth.” Rich snarled. Michael shuddered, but soldiered on.

“Is it family problems? Is it because you can't get a girlfriend?” He paused. “Is it because you're trying to hide something?” Michael seriously considered it. “What are you hiding?” Rich's face turned red. “Is it that you're gay, just like me? Is that why you're on the football team, so that you-”

Rich's hand swung towards him, and that was the last ring Michael saw before his world went white with pain, and then faded out.

He woke up only a few seconds after having fell to floor, long enough to see the door of the bathroom swing shut.

As much as Michael was worried about somebody finding him, a great pain in his cheek distracted him from those thoughts.

He slapped me. A cold fear worked its way into Michael’s stomach. A hand drifted up to touch his Mark, and his skin was hot. He slapped me on my Mark.

Tears filled his eyes, but he stood up nonetheless, ignoring the way his legs shuddered under his weight. He raced to the sinks, gripping the edge of the low quality metal and staring at his face in the mirror above them.

His Mark was still black. Rich's handprint was a little higher than his Mark, and his hands were smaller. He clenched his hands on the rim of the sink for support and his legs went weak with relief, and tears spring to eyes. He slid down the wall, his knees curling up to his chest.

He didn't know for how long he sat there, eyes wet and his nose sniffly. His phone was on the table in the cafeteria. Michael couldn't care less how much time passed, but he was sure he had missed 5th period.

For what it was worth, Rich Goranski never spoke to him again.

\-----------------

Jeremy Heere, decidedly, was not having a good day.

It was his junior year, and it was his first day of play rehearsal with the love of his life, Christine Canigula. (It counted as the love of his life even if she didn't return it… right?)

He'd held high hopes that she was his soulmate. He'd walked in that day, and he saw her, sitting in the plastic green chair. His hand was stained black, and he was determined to color it today.

So he was, understandably, heartbroken when she'd leapt up and seized his bare forearm, which was also barren of any black Marks. He hid his sigh and went on with play rehearsal.

Even now, as Jeremy walked home from play rehearsal, his heart silently wept at his loss. His feet dragged on the sidewalk as he walked.

She’s so perfect! His brain supplied. Why couldn't it have been her?

She had been nice. He wasn't her soulmate, but he had hoped that they could be friends. That would be nice.

She's probably an amazing friend, he thought. But he was broken away from his thoughts as a beaten up PT Cruiser drove by him on the road, and a black pick up truck drove next to it- but something was wrong. The truck was far faster than the Cruiser, and before Jeremy could process it, the truck flew directly into the right side of the Cruiser, causing the car to go sideways, almost running into a tree, before abruptly stopping.

Frantically fishing his phone out, Jeremy hurriedly called 911.

After rattling off the address to promise of an ambulance being sent, Jeremy hurried in the direction of the cars (his dad's voice in his head warned him of explosions, but Jeremy didn't really care). Before he got there, the truck, whose front had been less damaged than jeremy would have expected, pulled away and sped down the road. Jeremy would later curse himself for not getting the plate.

Arriving on the driver's side door of the Cruiser, Jeremy was surprised to find the door already open- and absently noted that the window was shattered- and the person inside was conscious. The airbag was deployed, and the man in the driver seat did not look good. The frames of his glasses hung crookedly from one ear, presumably shattered against the airbag. His right arm was bloody, the sweatshirt on it ripped at the shoulder. Bloody crescents were in the inner corners of his eyes from his glasses, and most noticeably, a small piece of glass was wedged into the left side of his face. It didn't look too deep, but it was definitely bloody, and a steady stream of it coated the majority of the left side of his face.

Jeremy's face wrinkled with worry at the way the man- who, he noted with a blush, was not bad looking- was struggling to get out of the car. His hand wandered up to the man's face, attempting to wipe some of the blood away.

That being said, it was a complete shock when the world went white with pleasure.

\-----------------

Michael Mell was definitely not having a good day.

Someone had thrown their yogurt at him during his first class period, he had gotten a C+ on his pre-calc quiz, and he hadn't even gotten to talk to Brooke all day. But, the worst part of today was the fact that he had just got into a fucking car crash. Just what he needed!

As of that moment, Michael was in a lot of fucking pain. His arm was too warm, and it felt like it was cracked in half then put into a pit of lava. He had a killer headache, and the little pieces of glass lodged into his cheek and temple were decidedly not helping. His vision was blurry because his damn glasses had broken and fallen off after murdering the space between his eyes. Add that to the fact that he could barely get the car door open because of the glass in his hand, and you've got a real party.

Once he got the door open, the next step was easier said than done: get out of the car. His chest hurt and his head was fuzzy, and he was dizzy and tired and he was really hungry, actually.

But before he could start his attempt at exiting his vehicle, someone showed up. Someone with curly hair which he thought looked very soft, and pale skin and blue eyes and a worried look on his face that gave Michael a vague idea of what he looked like at that moment.

Before he could tell the guy to call 911- which, hopefully, he already had- the other guy reached out to touch his cheek, and the moment the skin made contact, Michael was in a different universe.

His cheek exploded in a blast of pain and pleasure, pure bliss raising from the spot. He could dully feel the pain of his injuries, but the bliss far outweighed it. It wasn't really a physical pleasure, or was more… internal, emotional, like when you receive amazing news, but a thousand times more intense. He could see nothing but white, and he was grateful for the brief reprieve.

He only briefly processed what had happened before he opened his eyes, the spell having passed. His head hurt more than it ever had before, and he was so tired. Giving a brief smile to the other boy (who looked just as gobsmacked as Michael felt), everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello, back again with another gay fic. This is only my second fic but I'm feeling good about this one. I might continue this and make it multichaptered if people like it, so leave a comment telling me what you think (even if you hate it, or have an issue with anything). Have a rad day friends


	2. Chapter 2

Consciousness crashed into him like a freight train, and he blearily opened his eyes. Michael immediately regretted that when harsh lights met his eyes, and he squeezed them shut and moved to cover them.

He felt a sharp pain in his arm, and he looked down to see -blurrily, in the absence  of his glasses- that his left arm was wrapped in multiple layers, and was in a sling. A brief test proved that he couldn't move it, so that meant he had a splint on. Both his hands and his right arm had bandages on them, presumably from the cuts, and his head hurt like hell- he felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. The beeping he could hear did not help.

He sat up, and his whole body ached, and his head began to pulse. He felt around on the table for his glasses, and when he didn't find them, he did his best to examine the room around him. The walls were white, as was his bed, and practically everything else, which was a real life hell for Michael, as the room seemed absurdly bright. He was definitely in a hospital, considering the heart monitor, so he considered asking the do-

“Dayong!” his thoughts were interrupted by his mother barrelling into the room, and basically throwing herself at him. He grunted in slight pain, but wasted no time in hugging her back.

“Nanay,” he muttered, fisting his hands on the back of her shirt.

“I was so worried!” She stood up with a stern look on her face. “Never do that again, Michael! You nearly scared me to death!” The worry took over her features again, and she dove in for another hug.

“I’m sorry, Nanay,” Michael said.

“Oh, no, it's alright- it wasn't your fault, dayong.” She sighed softly. “I'm just glad you'll be okay.” Having his Nanay there gave him a certain level of comfort, something he was familiar with. It did him a lot more good than he anticipated.

“Where's mom?” he asked.

“She's picking clothes up for you at the house. Your sweatshirt got ripped, and a little stained, but… I'm sure I can figure out a way to fix it up.” Both his moms knew how much he loves that sweatshirt. It had been a gift from Brooke, for his fourteenth birthday. It was oversized then, and it was oversized now, and it was essentially his safety blanket. He was eternally grateful that his mom was bringing him clothes- he was wearing a  _ hospital gown _ for fuck's sake.

His Nanay leaned back and opened her mouth to say something, but a look of surprise overtook her expression.

“Your soulmark!” What about my soulmark? Michael thought. It was the same as it always was bef-

Wait.

His memory came into bright and clear focus, and suddenly he remembered. Driving, the truck barrelling at him, the pain- god, did his head hurt. And then… a person. With curly hair and a worried frown, and then pure pleasure rocketed through him. Was that what that was? Was that really his soulmate?

“Oh my God.” It was just this luck, really, that he would meet his soulmate directly after having been in a  _ fucking car crash _ . He was covered in blood! His soulmate could be anywhere, and he'd have no idea.

“Michael! You met them? Why didn't you tell me?” His Nanay looked so hurt at the thought that guilt lanced through him when he knew that's not what happened.

“No, no, Nanay, I promise I would've told you! I just…” Michael hesitated, but ultimately plundered on. “They were the one who found me, after the crash. I think I passed out like, right after we touched.” His Nanay wrapped her arms around him again, and normally he wouldn't let so many hugs happen in consecutive order, but this was a special occasion.

“Oh, dayong.” She sat up and brushed the hair from his face, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“How long have I been out?” Michael asked.

“The crash happened yesterday, and it's only eleven.” Her phone let out a “ting” noise, and she briefly looked at it. “Your mom should be here with your clothes soon.” Michael nodded in acknowledgement.

“Do you have a mirror?” He asked.

“No, but I have my phone…. Why?” Michael brought a hand up to touch his soulmark- it was a sharp sensation, but not painful. High pitched like the skin on the inside of your elbows are.

“I want to look at it.” Her face brightened up suddenly.

“Oh, my dayong has found his soulmate!” She smiled, wide and bright. “I'm so proud of you.”

_ It wasn't really my doing _ , he thought.  _ It just happened _ , but he decided not to voice his thoughts.

“Oh- here's my phone.” She handed him the device, the camera already open. Holding it up to his face, his could see that he had bandages on his cheek and temples. The bright room still hurt his eyes, but he moved past that.

The handprint on his cheek was definitely not black anymore. In fact, it was almost white- it was an incredibly pale blue, with the blue getting slightly darker where the hand would crease. He couldn't help but think it was a pretty color, especially in contrast with his tanner skin.

“It's beautiful,” his Nanay commented delightedly, and he mindlessly nodded his agreement.

“Where is my phone?” Michael wondered.

“Oh! It's in my purse.” She rummaged around in her purse before handing him his phone. It seemed a little beaten up around the edges, and the case was cracked, but the phone itself seemed overall undamaged. Turning it on, he noticed it was only at 13%, and that he had an abundance of notifications.

He dismissed the ones from Pinterest and things of that sort, then checked his texts. There was one from his mom asking where he was, presumably wondering why he was late, before they got the call from the hospital. There was one from a girl he was doing a Biology project with, but the most noticeable were from Brooke.

**Creek 3:38 PM**

Hey do u wanna hang out

**Creek 3:40 PM**

Are u driving lmao

**Creek 3:49 PM**

I know for a fact that ur house is only 7 minutes from school

**Creek 3:52 PM**

Wtf I know ur never off ur phone this long

**Creek 3:57 PM**

Are you ignoring me Mell

**Creek 4:03 PM**

Aight text me when u open these I guess

**Creek 4:20 PM**

Hey it's ur favorite time of day

**Creek 4:48 PM**

Okay ur starting to make me worried Michael

**Creek 4:49 PM**

Michael are you okay?

**Creek 4:49 PM**

Please text me back or at least open these

**Creek 4:50 PM**

Michael I'm this close to driving over to your house

**[7] missed calls from Creek**

**Creek 4:59 PM**

Michael there's no one at your house where are you

**Creek 5:00 PM**

Did you guys go to dinner or something?

**Creek 5:02 PM**

Nvm you still go on your phone when you're at dinner

**Creek 5:15 PM**

Michael please I'm really worried about you

**Creek 5:16 PM**

Should I be worried? It's reasonable for someone to not use their phone for two hours, right? Maybe you're playing video games or smth or taking a nap

**Creek 5:20 PM**

Maybe you're high

**Creek 5:20 PM**

You're probably high right

**Creek 5:23 PM**

Okay I'll stop texting you till you text me back this is probably annoying

**Creek 1:27 AM**

I lied okay I'm relly worried abiut you pelse text me back mciahel

**Creek 1:28 AM**

Im really tierd so imma go to sleeo but tedt me wgen you can

**Creek 9:47 AM**

Michael what the fuck

A shot of guilt ran through him and he hurriedly replied.

**Me 11:23 AM**

Omfg Brooke I'm so sorry

**Creek 11:23 AM**

miCHAEL

**Creek 11:23 AM**

Are you okay?

Michael took a moment to consider that question.

**Me 11:54 AM**

Yeah I'm fine

**Creek 11:55 AM**

Why the fuck weren't you responding???

Michael hesitated before he decided to just go for it.

**Me 11:56 AM**

I was in a car crasg

**Creek 11:56 AM**

WHAT THE FUCK MICHAEL

**Creek 11:57 AM**

WHY DID YOU SAY YOU WERE FINE IF YOU GOT IN A FUCKING CAR CRASH

**Me 11:57 AM**

I fcujced up my arm a bit vut otsherwise imf ine

**Me 11:58 AM**

sory ab the typos its hard to rype

He wasn't lying there. The splint on one arm and the bandages on the other weren't the best for typing.

**Creek 11:59 AM**

Omfg where are you

**Me 11:59 AM**

The hospotal

**Creek 12:00 PM**

????? Which one

**Me 12:00 PM**

The one by the Starbucks

**Creek 12:00 PM**

Ok I'll be there soon

**Me 12:00 PM**

Ok

A sound made him look up.

“Michael!” His mom shouted, dropping her bag and giving him a brief hug. “Oh, honey, are you feeling okay? I'm so glad it wasn't worse. Your soulmark is colored! You met them? Michael, why didn't you tell me-” she rambled on till Michael cut her off.

“Mom! Mom, I'm fine. They found me after the crash, but I don't know where they went.”

“Oh, it's such a pretty color! It's so nice with your skin,” She commented, before picking up the bag. “I brought you clothes- and a charger. And a book to read. I don't know how long you'll be here but I'd hate for you to be bored.” His mom tended to talk and talk till someone stopped her. She just had so much to say at all points in time, which made for some interesting conversation.

“Thanks, mom,” he said, a soft smile on his face. He looked over when he heard a perky knock on the doorframe, and it seemed to be a nurse.

“Hello!” She said. She was short with curly brown hair, and her face was all smiles. “I'm nurse Lee. How are you?”

“I'm… fine. How are you?”

“I'm good, thanks for asking!” She stepped further into the room, closing it softly behind her. “I'm here to check that everything is going according to plan in regards to your healing injuries.”

She sat down in a chair to the side of the bed. “You've sustained a fracture in your left arm. I'm going to unwrap the splint to check on the swelling, if that's alright.” At Michael's nod, she began unwrapping it. “You only suffered a closed fracture, which is one if the best. You will need a cast, but you won't need surgery or screws, which is nice.” After having unwrapped the splint, she began to press in different places along his arm. Her fingers were cold but it wasn't too uncomfortable.

“The swelling seems to have gone down quite a bit, but it will still be a couple days before we can give you a cast.” She rewrapped the splint and stood up. She lifted the edge of the bandages on his temple and looked under it. “There aren't any signs of infection, so that's going well.”

She then proceeded to ask him several questions about his personal life, like his name, where he lived, his best friend’s name, et cetera to make sure he didn't have any memory loss from his head being whipped around like a ragdoll. According to Nurse Lee, he had  a moderate TBI- “Traumatic Brain Injury”- since he was unconscious for more than 30 minutes, but she said it was looking good with the lack of memory loss. He told her about his headaches, as well as the room being too bright.

“Well, that might be because of your eyes. We had reason to believe that the same glass that cut up your head might have gotten in your eye, and if your pupil constricts with the foreign body in your eye, it could cause really painful muscle spasms. Luckily, glass is radiopaque, which means it will show up on x-rays, so we'll be able to remove it easily if that is the case.”

His Nanay spoke up from her chair. “If there were glass in his eye, how would you treat it? And could it cause permanent damage?”

“If there was, we would do an optic x-ray to locate it, and he'd have to be out under general anesthesia to remove it. After that, he'd have to use eye drops for the healing process for two to three weeks, and possibly wear an eye patch for some of that time.” Michael breathed a sigh of relief- that didn't sound to bad. “As for lasting damage, he might be more sensitive to light for about a month afterwards. If the abrasion from the glass scars, it could damage the acuity in that eye- so it might be a little blurry. However, corneal scars usually fade in less than nine months, and usually leave no permanent effects.” Nurse Lee said all of this basically without taking a breath, and it took Michael a moment to process it.

“Oh, well… that's good,” his mom said, a bit uncertain.

“So, we'll need to schedule an x-ray for his eye, and a CT scan to monitor his TBI- his brain injury- as well as get him a cast, preferably sometime within the week. We'll keep him here for a few days to keep an eye on his head, and to get his cast, but we'll do our best to make sure your son recovers with as little complications as possible.” With that finality, nurse Lee stood up and brushed her shirt off. “Well, that's all for now.” She waved goodbye as she walked out the door.

“Well, she seems to think you'll be okay, and that's really all I'm worried about,” his Nanay commented, sounding satisfied.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, all the excitement finally having calmed down for a moment. Michael was tired, actually, even if he'd only been awake for about two hours.

He plugged his phone into the outlet on the side table, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. As busy as it had been, things seemed like they'd be alright. The light still hurt his eyes, though, and he regretted not asking Nurse Lee if there was a way to dim them, or maybe just turn them off completely. There was also the matter of his soulmate, who he… didn't know the location of.

That worried him a lot, actually. Did he go to the hospital with him? When did he leave? How long would he have stayed here? Where was he now? Would he visit him?

The questions flit around in his head, along with the more generic,  _ did he like me? He's only seen me covered in blood and broken glass- I would blame him if he didn't, even if I hadn't been. I'm not much to look at anyways. I hope the way we met doesn't scare him off entirely. _ Hell, he didn't even know his name. How would he find him? Where did he even go to school?

Quick, light footsteps heading towards his room tore him away from his thoughts.  _ Please, give me a fucking break,  _ Michael thought.

“Michael!” Yet another person exclaimed upon entering his room. He was happy to see Brooke, and not someone else. He didn't think he could handle someone else.

“Hey, Brookey,” he said, but he doubted she heard as she launched herself at him and wrapping her arms around him. He winced when her arms put too much pressure on his arm, and she loosened them.

“God, Michael, you gave me a fucking heart attack,” she mutter in his ear.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in response.

“Shut up,” Brooke responded, but there was no malice behind the words. He buried his face in her soft blonde hair, glad to be in the company of his best friend.

“God, you idiot,” she said fondly.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too.” He sighed deeply, realizing from his other two visitors what she would ask next. “And before you ask, yes, I met my soulmate-”

“You fucking  _ what?”  _ Brooke abruptly leaned back, eying his soulmark- once she could see it.

“I met my soulmate. But I passed out right after, and-”

“You're telling me you let them get away?” She said incredulously. “Michael Mell!”

“I got in a  _ car crash _ , Brooke!” He couldn't really tell if she was really mad at him or not, and it was making him a bit nervous. She sighed, but she didn't sound angry.

“It's a gorgeous color,” she said fondly, with a soft smile.

“Thanks.” Brooke's own fist was a hot pink color, which certainly wasn't surprising coming from Chloe Valentine. She had warmed up to him over the years, and he could confidently say that she didn't hate him anymore. Even more than that, she finally called him by his actual name!

Getting off the bed, Brooke picked something up off a chair.

“I brought you a slushie.” She handed him the bright red cherry slushy, and he thanked a god he didn't believe in for the hundredth time for his best friend.

“I literally owe you my soul in so many ways,” he vowed, taking the slushie and immediately taking a drink. It worked like a drug on him and he let himself finally relax, the familiarity good on his mental state.

“I know, sweetheart,” she commented, sitting on the end of the hospital bed. “So how did you hurt yourself?”

“I fractured my arm, for one. And I got a bunch of cuts, obviously, and the nurse said I might have a concussion or something? I don't know. And I guess there also might be glass in my eye, so that's cool.”

“Glass in your eye? Ouch.” Brooke crossed her arms comfortably. “I was out by that cool theatre we found, right? And I found this amazing coffee shop, I don't even remember what it's called, but it's right down the street from the theatre. They sell the best liquid chocolate and I'm morally obligated to take you there to heal your soul.”

“Damn. We love a good liquid chocolate.” Brooke definitely preferred cold, fruity drinks, specifically the Pinkberry smoothies- but Michael liked warm drinks, like liquid chocolate and hot chocolate, and coffee. He liked a good iced coffee, too, but nothing beats a good cup of coffee at six AM when you're forced to wake up and go to school.

He was aware that Brooke was probably trying to keep conversation, as Brooke definitely didn't like awkward silences (which means she never let there be silences in the first place), but Michael didn't really have much to say.

The conversation died off- his moms having gone on their phones a while ago- and a comfortable silence fell over them.

“You know you guys don't have to stay here, right? You can go home if you want.”

“Like hell am I leave my Dayong alone in a hospital,” his Nanay protested, standing her ground. “I already closed the shop for a few days, so we don't need to worry about that.”

“Who would bring you your ambrosia?” Brooke said, gesturing to his slushie. He could tell that she wanted to be here with him just by the tone of her voice.

“Everyone at the station knows what happened, so I should have a few days as well.” His mom was a police officer, so he knew the “should” was essential. He knew that if she were called onto a case she would have to go, but that would only happen if it we're absolutely necessary. His Nanay owned a coffee shop, so she could easily call a few days off. Still, he didn't like keeping them.

“I'll still have to go to school on Monday, though. When do they say you'll be back?” Brooke asked.

“The nurse said I'd be here for about a week, so they can make sure my head isn't fucked.”

“Language, Michael.” His mom liked to reprimand him on his language- he knew she didn't care, but she didn't like him cursing in public.

“Sorry, mom,” he drawled.

“Yeah, you-”

She was cut off by a soft knock by the door. Stifling his irritation at the constant interruption, he turned towards the door only to have his heart stop (and the beeping of the monitor speed up).

There he was. The boy who found him after the car crash, the one with the worried frown and beautiful blue eyes.

His soulmate.

_ Fuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Everyone was so nice about the first chapter and it honestly just put a shot of motivation into my bloodstream, and so this monstrosity was born. Also I'm sorry for the endings of my chapters so far- it's like I dangle Jeremy in your vicinty then yank him out of reach. That will end next chapter though, I promise! Jeremy Heere will actually be in the next chapter.
> 
> Anyways, definitely leave comments! I love each and every person who reads this story, but commenters hold a special place in my heart.
> 
> Have a rad day friends!


	3. Chapter 3

“Hello.” The word was spoken quietly, with a slight tremble from nerves.

“Hi,” Michael responded. There was a slight awkward tension between them. _Fuck_ , Michael thought. _I should have taken the chance to change into my clothes earlier. I'm still in a hospital gown!_

“Who are you?” his mom asked, and Michael felt the tension in the room increase tenfold. _Of course they wouldn't know who he was._

“Uh, I'm the guy who found you and called 911? After the crash.” The remaining three occupants then realized the implications of that. _So, this is him?_

Brooke suddenly stood, pocketing her phone. “Um, my mom just texted me- I have to…. Help her clean the house. We're having company I guess, and you know how my mom is.”

“Okay. Text me later?” Turning to face Michael, she winked, and flicked her eyes towards the doorway. Michael fought down a blush. She strolled to the doorway, muttering a quiet “nice to meet you”.

“Um, thank you.” His soulmate looked like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment, before settling slightly. “For, ya know. Calling 911 and everything.”

“Yeah!” His voice cracked a bit, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “I mean, of course. I wasn't going to just… leave you there.” He let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. His moms were stifling big smiles, and remained onlookers rather than choosing to partake in the conversation.

He stepped further into the room, choosing to stop lingering in the doorway. He waved with a small smile to his moms, and his Nanay smiled back, while his mom burst into a huge smile and waved back cheerfully.

Approaching the bed, he extended a hand- his left one, Michael noted. “I'm Jeremy,” he said. _Jeremy._ Michael twisted it around in his head, before coming to the conclusion that it was a nice name.

Taking his hand, he shook it. “Michael.” He noticed movement, and his moms were standing up. His mom shot him a thumbs up, and he shook his head minisculely.

And then they were alone.

“Your, uh…” Jeremy tapped the side of his own face where Michael's soulmark would be. “It looks really nice. With your- uh, with your skin.”

“Thanks,” Michael said. Jeremy held up his right hand, which was a deep crimson color.

“This is nice, too.” Michael looked at his hand, noticing that- like his own soulmark- the color got darker around the creases and joints of the hand. “I thought it would be, like, a weird handshake, or a high five. Instead I got to wipe the blood off your face,” they both laughed shortly, before dying down.

“You can sit down, you know,” Michael said, gesturing at the several chairs surrounding the bed.

“Yeah! I- uh. Yeah.” Jeremy immediately sat down in his chair. “So who were they?”

“Oh, they’re my moms.” Honestly, if anything were to make or break this relationship, it would be Jeremy's reaction to that.

“Oh, okay,” Jeremy said after a moment, and Michael sighed in relief.

“Thank God,” he muttered.

“What?” Jeremy asked.

“I was just worried about your reaction,” he admitted.

Jeremy let out a small laugh. “We're both men, why would I judge?”

“I don't know!” Michael laughed, amusement behind his words. He checked on the floor beside the bed, ensuring that the bag was still there. “I'm gonna go change, so I can look a little bit less like shit.” He grabbed the bag and made his way to the bathroom, extremely grateful that the gown wasn't the kind that was open in the back. He was relieved to find his extra pair of glasses were also in the bag, seeing as his old ones were ruined.

Upon re-entering the room, Jeremy was on his phone and he looked up.

“You like Apocalypse of the Damned?” Michael looked down, noticing that the shirt his mom had grabbed was, in fact, his favorite AotD shirt.

“Hell yeah! _You_ like Apocalypse of the Damned?”

“It's my favorite game!” Jeremy was smiling, and for the first time since they met, it didn't seem awkward. That alone would've made Michael smile too, if he hadn't been already.

“Mine too!” Michael resat himself in the edge of the bed. “What other games do you like?”

Before Michael even realized, they were having an in depth conversation about their favorite video games, and it felt comfortable. His heart settled down, and his smiles came easier.

“Oh, I meant to ask earlier- why was Brooke here? Do you know her?” Jeremy asked, suddenly.

“She's my best friend. Do you know her?” Brooke never mentioned him, but Michael knew she didn't share every aspect of her life with him.

“Everyone knows Brooke,” Jeremy commented as if it we're common knowledge- which, Michael thought, it was. “She's like, top of the food chain with Chloe.”

“Wait, you go to Middleborough?” Michael asked, a bit surprised. “How have I never met you?”

Jeremy paused, sounding hesitant. “Well… I'm not exactly Mr Popular. I'm pretty under the radar.” He took a deep breath. “I don't really stand out, so people don't mess with me, ya know?”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Michael responded. He considered telling Jeremy about his problems with the football team- barring Rich, who hadn't messed with him since the incident in the bathroom. He thought it was definitely more a matter of not caring anymore rather than actually stopping. He decided not to say anything about it.

“Besides, I've never met you either.” Michael agreed, and the conversation died off. Getting an idea, Michael picked up his phone.

“Hold on, I'm gonna look up things to talk about.” Quickly googling, he found a page and clicked on it. “Do you have any pets?”

“God, no,” Jeremy chuckled a bit. “My dad wouldn't…” he trailed off. “My dad _wouldn't."_

“Oh,” Michael said, brilliantly. “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright. What about you? Do you have any?”

“I have a cat, named Ryan. He's kind of a trash gremlin but I love him anyways,” Michael admitted.

“Is there a reason he's named Ryan?” Jeremy sounded genuinely curious, so Michael answered.

“...Uh, I named him after Ryan from High School Musical.” Jeremy let out a little giggle. “Hey, shut up!” He said, but he ended up laughing with him.

“I've never actually seen any of those movies.”

“ _What?_ ” Michael wheezed, aghast. “That is a _sin_ , Jeremy. You could go to _hell._ ” Pausing, he realized a very important topic. “Wait, you're not religious, are you?”

“Oh, fuck no,” Jeremy laughed. “You aren't either, right?” Michael shook his head, and they both sighed in relief. Michael checked the list only to see it completely overtaken with ads. Exiting out, he chose another page and continued.

“Do you like to read, write or draw?”

“I like reading, but only like, fun stuff. I don't like classics or poetry and stuff. And I would write and draw if I could but I suck _ass_ at it, so I don't.” He laughed a bit. “I like taking pictures, though. Like, pictures of scenery or random people in a park, but I really want a Polaroid camera.”

“Oh, that's so cool!” Michael said, and he wasn't lying. Photography was fascinating, but he could never get the hang of it. “I can't do photography, and I can't write, either. I sound like an illiterate caterpillar crawling on a keyboard. Trust me, I've tried.” Jeremy laughed- he laughs a lot. Michael loved it.

“What about drawing?”

“I doodle in my notebook a lot, but they're not really drawings, so no.”

“What TV shows do you like?” Jeremy asked.

“I like Planet Earth and Planet Earth II, and a lot of documentaries. Sherlock and Doctor Who are cool too, and I've watched a few seasons of Supernatural.” He barely restrained himself from launching into a rant about said shows. “What about you?”

“I like Game of Thrones, and like, crime dramas? I watched the first season of Doctor Who but I didn't like it.”

“Okay, Doctor Who doesn't get good until Rose leaves,” Michael said. “She fucking sucks, and I don't like Nine. Ten is where it gets good, and Eleven is where it gets really good.”

“Eleven _seasons?_ ”

“No, the eleventh regeneration.” He could Jeremy didn't really know what he was talking about, and didn't bother explaining. “He's hot.”

“Alright, I'll take your word for it. Maybe we could watch it,” Jeremy smiled, and Michael choked for a second. Jeremy would be willing to sit and watch a TV show with him?

It sounds amazing.

“That sounds amazing.” Michael immediately kicked himself. _That's so cheesy_. But Jeremy's smile brightened, so he figured it was worth it. Going back to the page, he read the next question.

“Talk about your soulmarks.” He looked up, and Jeremy was blushing.

“We kind of did that already, right?” He shrugged. “I'm naturally right handed, but i learned to write with my left hand because the pencil irritated my mark.”

“Oh,” Michael felt a little bit bad. “I'm sorry.”

“Totally not your fault, dude. Don't worry about it.”

“Everyone thought that our first touch would be you slapping me,” Michael admitted.

“Oh my God! I wouldn't do that.” Jeremy sounded a little bit distressed, and Michael didn't like it.

“I know! I never thought you would.” Jeremy seemed to calm down a bit at that. “If it makes you feel any better, my mark is the only place I never got acne.”

“That does make me feel better,” his words were light-hearted. “Next question.”

“What is your favorite animal?”

“I dunno, I like dogs I guess. What about you?” Michael felt excitement welling in him.

“Oh, definitely a bluebottle butterfly. Their names have alliteration, _and_ they have, like, sixteen color cones,” Michael explained. “Or maybe the armadillo girdled lizard. _It looks like a baby dragon, Jeremy,”_ he loved talking about animals. They're so interesting, and he could probably talk about them for _hours_ \- Brooke could probably vouch for that.

Jeremy was blushing. His cheeks were bright pink, and he was smiling.

“What?” Michael asked. Did he do something embarrassing?

Jeremy squeaked, covering his face with his hands. “Nothing,” he said from behind them. He looked over his hands and muttered something unintelligible.

“What did you say?” Jeremy just repeated the same muffled sound, and he really couldn't understand him. “Jeremy, I can't hear what you're saying behind your hands,” Michael giggled.

Jeremy put his hands down, and he was still blushing. “I said that you're really cute.”

Almost immediately, he felt his face heat up.

“Wh- I- no- no I'm not!” He protested.

“Yes you are,” Jeremy retorted, and his voice was certain.

“Well so are you!” The red in Jeremy's face returned full force.

“Hey- that's not- what!” He spluttered. “That’s not fair!”

“That is _entirely fair_ , Jeremy- what's your last name?”

“Heere.”

“That is entirely fair, Jeremy Heere!” despite the aggressive tone, they were both sporting wide grins. It kind of hurt Michael's face, to be honest. “Besides, which of the two of us is covered in bandages?”

“You, but doesn't that support my point? You're still cute even when you're covered in bandages, so that makes you cuter than me.” Jeremy's face adopted a smug look.

“Hey, guess what?” Michael asked.

“What?”

“Fuck you.” Jeremy burst into little giggles, and Michael was sure he would asphyxiate at this point.

They ended up talking for- well, Michael honestly had no clue how long they'd been talking for. All he knew was that he laughs a lot and that the discussion felt… natural.

“Aww, now I want a slushie,” Jeremy said with a hint if a whine after Michael had taken a sip of his.

“Then… go get one?” Michael said questioningly.

Jeremy looked sheepish, and hesitated before speaking. “I… don't want to leave.”

Michael blushed. “...Oh,” he managed. Jeremy sighed, suddenly, and ran a hand through his hair while he opened his phone before pocketing it.

“I guess I should, though. I told my dad I would be home, like, an hour ago.” He stood up from the crappy hospital chair, and stretched his arms above his head.

“Yeah, maybe you should go home then,” Michael said, a laugh behind his words.

“Yeah, you're probably right,” Jeremy admitted.

“Here, put your number in here,” Michael said, handing his phone over after making a contact for Jeremy. He took it, quickly typing in how number. Jeremy wordlessly handed Michael his phone, and he typed his number in and handed it back as he took his own phone back.

“What's your last name?” Jeremy asked, presumably finishing the contact.

“Mell,” he answered simply. Jeremy did the thing again, with the blush and the big smile and squinty little eyes.

“Michael Mell,” he muttered under his breath as he typed it.

“...What?” Michael asked hesitantly.

“Nothing! It's just- that's a cute name.” Jeremy giggled and it would've made Michael blush if he hadn't been already.

“You need to shut the fuck up and leave,” Michael retorted brutally, but it was clear that he wasn't being malicious from the smile.

Jeremy held his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay,” he said laughingly. He pocketed his phone, and made his way to the door. He stopped, looking hesitant. “This… was really fun. I had- I had a really good time, and I just- I wanted- I was wondering if you did too?” He paused, fidgeting. “Sorry, that sounds really awkward- I just want to make sure you don't… hate me?”

“No! No, I don't hate you, not at all!” Michael protested reassuringly. “I… had a really good time, too,” he agreed sheepishly, smiling.

“I'm glad!” Jeremy said, seemingly having relaxed. “So, I'll… text you?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he agreed.

“Goodbye!” Jeremy said, and Michael returned it. “See you later?” He asked uncertainly.

“See you later,” he confirmed, and Jeremy left.

Taking a deep breathe, he slowly let himself relax, sinking into the bed. He'd had nonstop company all day, and he was glad to have a moment of peace.

He sat in his bed, scrolling through Pinterest for half an hour- he'd had to download a screen dimmer to make it less irritating- before he remembered that he had promised to call Brooke. Sighing, he put it off for another fifteen minutes- he loves Brooke, be she can be a bit much when you're tired.

Clicking on her contact, he pressed the call button. It rang four times before she picked up.

“Hello?” An irritated voice came from the speakers- definitely not Brooke.

“Hey, Chloe, it's Michael,” he started.

A slightly exasperated snort came from her. “I know that, dumbass. She has caller ID.” A scrambling noise clicked through. “Now what do you want?”

He then heard the phone make a loud crack noise- he assumed it had been dropped on the floor- and harsh shuffling noises as someone picked it up, only to be taken back by the other person. “Can't he… little longer?” The voice was just loud enough to be understood, and he knew Chloe well enough to guess at the missing words. “No…. Important!” He heard a deep sigh before the phone shifted hands again.

“Hey, Michael!” say Brooke, sounding slightly out of breath- though no less cheerful. and

“Hey, Brooke.” He paused. “Uh… I can call back if it's a bad time?”

“No, no!” She protested reassuringly. “Chloe is just being difficult- you know how she is.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, chuckling.

“So, how'd it go?” She asked curiously.

“Uh, fine? It was fun.”

“ _Michael_! Give me more than that!” At his questioning noise, she continued. “What was he like? What did you two talk about?”

“He was… nice,” he started. “And really awkward. I think we both were, though, so I definitely can't blame him. And we talked about video games a lot- you know, Brooke, he likes Apocalypse of the Damned! _He told me it was his favorite game_!”

Brooke laughed, light and airy. “Of course, your soulmate ends up being just as much of a fucking nerd as you are.” She paused. “Tell me more.”

“Tell me more, tell me more!” He sang.

“Was it love at first sight?” She attempted a mangled approximation of Frenchie's voice, and Michael laughed.

“Anyways. He laughs a lot, and he blushed easily. And, like, I don't know if you noticed- they're not very dark- but he has these adorable freckles, all over his cheeks.” Michael sighed. “And he wouldn't stop calling me cute.”

“Aww!” Brooke exclaimed. “Thats- oh my God! He sounds adorable, and he clearly likes you.”

“...You think so?” Michael asked. Well, they kind of _had_ to like each other, being soulmates and all. He just hoped that Jeremy liked him anyways.

“Definitely,” Brooke confirmed, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Do you want me to come to the hospital?”

“No, no, that's okay. Thanks, though.” He sighed. “I think I'm actually gonna take a nap. I'm really tired.”

“Michael, it's seven pm. Are you gonna take a _nap,_ or just go to sleep?” Brooke asked fondly.

“I'll probably end up sleeping through the night, so probably that,” he laughed.

“Well, I fully expect you to tell me every little thing tomorrow- and yes, I am coming to see you tomorrow. No protesting from you, it's set in stone.” Michael sighed- he knew Brooke well and thus, he knew she wouldn't back down.

“Alright, well. I'm gonna go to sleep.”

“Okay. Goodnight, I guess. Love you,” she said.

“Goodnight, love you,” he repeated, and she hung up. He plugged his phone in, and got up to finally turn the lights off. His head immediately cleared, and it wasn't until that moment that he noticed the relief the absence of that light gave him. He shut his eyes, rubbing them, and yawned- he was _exhausted_. He was probably right to tell Brooke that he would be sleeping for the night. Lying down on the hospital bed, he pulled the blankets up and laid his head down on the pillow.

He didn't know exactly what would happen, but right now, it wasn't getting worse- and that was honestly all he hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY HECC YALL I'm so sorry it's been so long, I just kept forgetting about this! I'm also redoing my room right now which takes up a lot if my time, but I finished today so it should be better. Also, the teachers in my district are striking right now, so I have no idea when school is going to start so that might make things a bit bumpy.
> 
> It's a little bit shorter than the last two chapters, but there's a hell of a lot of dialogue which I think makes up for it. What did you guys think of Jeremy? Please tell me what you thought of Jeremy and his characterization, because I'm really uncertain if I did him well. I'm also concerned about the overall quality of this chapter- It feels less choppy and more natural, but what do you guys think?
> 
> Also- has anyone else noticed that I can't write a piece of literature without making a Grease reference?
> 
> Next chapter, we have: more issues, some medical complications, and texting.
> 
> Anyways, have a rad day friends


End file.
